


Death's Soul Surgeon

by KasainoKage



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anxiety, Brook is only mentioned at the moment, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Gen, I am not a doctor unfortunately, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Probably incorrect medical procedures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasainoKage/pseuds/KasainoKage
Summary: The epithet "Surgeon of Death" is a little more literal than most people realise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series of short drabbles based off the idea of "what if Law could manipulate souls with the Ope Ope no Mi".  
Not in chronological order.

Law knew his patients were dying even before they were thrown onto the Polar Tang. Both were unconscious, their souls only partially tethered their bodies and easy for him to see when they passed the threshold into his Room.

He grimaced and fought the urge to pull his hat low. Straw Hat’s soul was screaming, a gut-wrenching scream of loss that Law was all too familiar with. The connection to his body was a ragged tear, the edges fraying like a cotton sheet and unravelling further as Jean Bart carried the boy and the Fishman to the operating theatre. Jinbei’s soul’s connection was torn halfway through, but cleaner. Like it had been cut with a rusty knife rather than hacked through with blunt force. A sign that though his wound was larger, had a hole punched straight through him, he would succumb to death slower than Straw Hat without treatment. The crew could slow it further, make sure he survived while Law operated on the other Supernova. 

Law would have been hard pressed the treat the Fishman first even if he had been dying faster. The screams of Straw Hat’s soul pierced into his brain and heart even with the body of the Tang between them. Being in the same room as that, trying to focus on surgery while a soul screamed enough to make his ears bleed, would have been more effort than it was worth.

With the boy’s namesake in hand, Law retreated into the bowels of his ship to prep himself for the surgery, trusting his crew to their escape from the battlefield.


	2. Chapter 2

A death god had followed Law after Corazon died. It could feel him teetering on the edge of life, so it followed, watching and waiting to see which way he would fall. Watched him fight against death and learn the basics of his devil fruit within days. Watched him cut himself, his limbs, his organs open to remove the poisonous lead. Watched as he carefully stitched his physical body back together but saw how he couldn’t see the frayed split in his soul to do the same to it. So, the death god did it for him. It trimmed off the frayed edges, reworked the lost fabric of his soul into a thread, and stitched his soul into one piece. It joined the ragged, old tear of the Amber Lead together, and pulled the holes left by Flevance and Corazon closed as much as it could. His soul would heal the rest on its own, scar over given time. And as it looked over his physical body again, admiring the neat stitches in his skin, it touched his head and gave him a gift. Combined with his devil fruit, the boy would be able to see souls and manipulate as he would anything else in his jurisdiction. It gave him this, and the knowledge to work the fabric of souls into thread. Let this boy’s neat stitches be used on both body and soul. Let him work to save more lives, help those whose bodies may heal, but whose souls are infected, or damaged beyond repair. Let him send more people to the realm beyond when they are happy to go, and not when they fight and scream and wail. Let him be the death gods’ human surgeon.

* * *

The death gods were torn when he got his hands on a cursed blade. Only a cursed blade could cut through the fabric of the soul. He would be able to trim fabric from the soul he worked on to create thread, rather than pulling a thread from his own soul to use. He could cut away at the edges of the tears to make a clean line to stitch together. The stitches on a clean edge were much less likely to come apart than those holding frayed edges together. And he could cut away infection, the damage that meant a person would die a slow death, pain their constant companion.

But he was just as likely to just slice through the soul’s tether altogether, detach it from the body and send it on to them. Truly a surgeon of death, to play with life so easily.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A series of short drabbles based off the idea of "what if Law could manipulate souls with the Ope Ope no Mi".  
Not in chronological order.

Law couldn't see souls outside his Room. And even then, only the souls of the unconscious wounded or dying were forced from the body. Law himself could force the souls out without causing bodily damage when wielding Kikoku. A sharp stab towards the person, focusing on the light under their skin rather than the body, and the soul fell out like they had been pushed. The body fell to the ground unconscious. It was just a shell the soul inhabited after all. A skeleton wearing a sack of meat forced into shape by the tight confines of the skin. It couldn't move if there was no one to drive it.

Law enjoyed forcing people's souls out more than he probably should. The fear it inspired in people when they saw others drop without even being touched made him grin. He found he could swap the body the soul was attached to as well. Force it out, switch like any other object, and force it back in. Sit back and watch confusion spread as his victims tried to work out what happened, why they were in a different body. It was fun. Almost as fun as tossing still talking heads around like a ball.

And when it stopped being fun, he sliced Kikoku through the connection with the body, severing it. He didn't need to force the soul out to do it. The bodies would drop like marionettes when Kikoku sliced through the connection with the soul, like she’d cut the puppet master’s strings.

Kikoku enjoyed when he did that, her slight glow in his Room a little brighter for each kill. Bloodthirsty as she was, she still didn't object when Law used her for saving lives as well. Didn't mind when he used her as a stake to pin restless souls to the operating table while he worked on their bodies. Didn't mind when he used her as an oversized scalpel, making clean cuts and suture edges because regular scalpels were useless on a soul. When he saw the glow of all three of the swords the second Straw Hat supernova carried, he wondered if maybe objects could have souls as well. Klabautermann crossed his mind briefly. Something to ask the gods when they paid him another visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr (otterinterests.tumblr)


	4. Chapter 4

The Straw Hat’s musician defied even Law’s understanding of logic. The body was the housing for the soul, and neither survived long without the other. In front of him stood a skeleton, his bones seemingly connected by nothing but air, yet working in perfect synchrony as if muscles and tendons were receiving signals from the brain. Inside his Room, Bone-ya’s soul was a pale neon green, and on the _outside_ of his body (bones? Did he technically have a body?). Souls did not belong on the outside. They were either under the skin or completely separated. It was—unnatural. It made the hair on the back of Law’s neck rise. But at the same time, it was so _interesting_.

The soul was clearly holding the bones together, forcing everything into the shape it would have been if he still had skin. It played the part of muscle, tendon, and skin. Was it why Bone-ya could eat and drink and it went _somewhere_ despite him lacking all of the required parts? Law itched to experiment with him. A devil fruit had kept the soul alive as the body decayed. The result was the living dead, yes, but what was the process? Had the soul been attached the whole time and just wandering farther than normal? Had it been detached, and then reattached to the body when it found its way back? The former, most likely. Bone-ya could wander hundreds of metres in his soul form while still connected to his skeleton. But why could he make his soul visible? How did he wrap his sword in the fabric of his soul and not cause himself any damage?

Law could sever souls completely and stitch them back to the body without many side effects, but those bodies always had beating hearts and brain function. If he severed Bone-ya’s soul, would he be able to reattach it? Would it reattach on its own? Or would he have just killed a member of the crew he allied with? There was one way to find out.

After multiple tests and arguments and Tony-ya screaming murder, it turned out to be none of Law’s hypotheses. The fruit had strengthened the fabric of Bone-ya’s soul. Kikoku couldn’t cut through it. He knew the Ope Ope no Mi required its user to sacrifice their soul to give another perpetual youth. Law wondered who sacrificed their life to give this fruit its power.


	5. Chapter 5

Law had never seen his own soul. He could see the light blue glow coming from his skin whenever he created a Room, but he'd never seen his soul out of his body. Never had any memories of his soul leaving his body (though some of the stunts the Straw Hats pulled certainly made it feel like he did). He knew he had to have. He'd been knocked out and beaten hard enough to have his soul forced out more than a few times since Minion. And a death god was always nearby any time his crew had to patch him back together after a particularly close call. They were visible to him without his Room, but his crew couldn’t see them. Once, after he convinced himself he wasn’t hallucinating them, he asked why they came to him. Why they fixed. He learned then that damage to the soul might not reflect physically on the body, but it affects it in other ways.

He was their sole human surgeon, it said. The only one who could fix both physical and spiritual wounds.

“Why me?” he asked. “Was it because of the Ope Ope no Mi?”

The death god made a considering noise.

“Your stitches are neat,” it said, and faded out of his awareness.

“Wha-?”

Penguin broke down laughing when he walked in and saw Law looking at the empty chair like it had produced a ukulele and tried to serenade him but managed to light itself on fire instead.


	6. Chapter 6

Some crew had recognised the Surgeon of Death and wanted to take him down. They’d taunted and insulted him with the usual bluster of overconfident Paradise pirates. Law was indifferent. He didn’t know who they were, hadn’t seen even their captain on a bounty poster, so why would he bother with them? His crew took offence on his behalf instead. But these pirates weren’t just talk. Outnumbered as the Hearts were, it was a challenge, but still mildly enjoyable. There weren’t too many still fighting when he cut off their captain’s head and tossed it back as it yelled obscenities. It was amusing to watch them react. It had been too much for the opposing crew though. The crewmen Shachi, Ikkaku, and Uni had surrounded exploded in a mass of shrapnel, heat, and a distinct lack of body parts. All three of his crew were blown off their feet, holes torn through their bodies, jumpsuits burned away. There was a sickening crack as they landed, like one of the wooden deck boards had snapped. It felt as if time slowed. Uni missing an arm at the elbow. Ikkaku’s small intestine poking through a tear in her abdominal wall. Shachi, face down and in a fit, hair on one side burned short and clear fluid leaking out his ears and nose, mixing with blood. Their souls were hovering above their bodies, tethers more than halfway shredded. Shachi’s was tearing further even as Law catalogued their injuries.

They were done here.

“Down,” he said to Bepo, who made a signal. All his Hearts dropped to the deck and lay flat.

Law expanded his Room to cover both ships and swung Kikoku around him in a circle. The enemy crew still standing fell boneless and all at once the whole crew stopped moving. Their souls screamed, severed from their from their bodies. He teleported himself and his three downed crew into the operating theatre. Stripped clothes, attached monitors, and scrubbed in all at the same time with his fruit. Shachi was kept in the air to stop him damaging himself further during the seizure.

“Hmmm, the clear stuff is brain fluid, right? That’s not good.”

Law glared at his friend’s soul and its cheerful tone as more crew rushed through the door to scrub in.

“Cerebrospinal fluid. You’ve got a depressed skull fracture. Shut up, Shachi.” Law was in no mood for jokes. His body was hyper aware, his senses cataloguing everything in his Room. Every movement, every item, every body. Every injury.

He listed them all rapid fire to his assisting crew. Set them to work on the physical while he started on the souls.

“Over a minute and you’re still seizing too.”

“You won’t be in good shape if you come back from this.”

“Ikkaku, Uni, all three of you are dying. Shut. Up.”

His crew was mostly used to his oddities. Talking to people that, to them, were clearly unconscious and couldn’t respond was just one of them. As were his strange movements in apparently empty space.

“Hey, it’s interesting being able to see this side of it!” Ikkaku exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Uni agreed. “Normally you just look kind of weird stitching and cutting at nothing.”

He stepped towards Shachi and sheared the frayed edges of his soul away with Kikoku. It would take too much time to work the cut-off into thread. Law pulled at the light within himself with Takt, and a thin blue thread snaked from his chest. He grimaced. It was an uncomfortable feeling, pulling out a thread of his own soul.

“Wait,” Shachi said, “what are you doing?”

Law ignored him. A continuous stitch first, to at least hold him together and attempt to stop the tearing. If he tried any other technique the tear would propagate further, and it would be like he started in the middle of the wound. A live thread would encourage healing as well, take energy from his own soul to fix the connection. He would have to cut the thread from himself to make interrupted stitches.

“Captain?” Uni and Ikkaku floated over to watch.

Law growled. “Go back to your bodies, you’ll tear your connections if you move too far.”

“Captain, what are you doing?” Ikkaku asked as Law shaped the tip of the thread into a sharp point. “I thought it was bad for you to use your own soul to heal others?”

Shachi moved away as Law moved forward to start. His face was thunderous.

“I remember you telling us it was something like a blood transfusion, but with lifeforce.”

“Shachi, stay still.” Law moved forward again, and Shachi dodged out of the way.

“No. Put that back and do whatever you normally do.”

“I swear to the gods, if you don’t stay still I’ll pin you to the wall.”

“Being curious, are they captain?” Penguin asked, trying for a joking tone as he cleaned Uni’s physical wounds. “Or are they trying to fix it themselves? Trained medics make the worst patients, don’t we.”

Uni made a distressed noise, and Law’s eyes shot to him. His constant Scan didn’t tell him anything was worse than before, but if Uni could feel something—

“This argument,” he said. “It happens all the time. I remember making a comment like that when Jean Bart got stabbed through the lung. But we don’t remember.”

Ikkaku looked horrified. “That’s why you’re dead on your feet after big surgeries. Not from your fruit. You’re literally killing yourself to fix us.”

Shachi rushed at him, trying to shove his soul thread back into his body. “Put it back!” he screamed.

Law snarled and froze them all. He manipulated his thread and began suturing Shachi together, even as they struggled.

“You three are making this so much harder than it needs to be,” he ground out. Splitting his focus like this—keeping aware of the input from Scan, keeping a steady pull on his soul, manipulating the thread to suture properly, and keeping the three of them frozen—was incredibly difficult.

He would finish on Shachi’s soul first, then slice his head apart to release pressure on his brain while he worked on Uni’s and Ikkaku’s souls. Go back and double check Shachi's continuous stitch hadn't come apart. Then he’d pin all three of them to the wall with Kikoku while he worked on their bodies. He needed to reconnect the nerves and blood vessels in Uni’s severed arm, but the rest would need to be left to his able crew. Neurosurgery was finicky at the best of times and Law was by far best equipped for the task. The others should be fine with connecting the rest of the tissue and skin of Uni’s arm, and with Ikkaku’s abdominal breaches. He’d double check their work anyway after he finished with Shachi. Then Law would shove the souls back in their bodies, and none of them would remember anything after the fight.

As always.


	7. Chapter 7

Law hated Dressrosa. He hated the climate, the wildlife, and even the royal family. Idiots, all four of them. But most of his hatred went to Doflamingo. He didn't think he could hate Doflamingo any more than he already did. But when he opened his Rooms during the battle, and even after it was over, the noise nearly deafened him. Souls of the dead and dying, crying for their families, raging at the destruction, baying for the blood of the Donquixote Family. Screaming at the oblivious living to _please help me! _

And the death gods. He'd always been able to see them without his Room, but he'd never seen more than two in one place. Hadn't ventured close enough to see them at Marineford. There were dozens here, taking the hands of souls and fading from Law's sight. Some souls screamed and yelled, kicked and scratched and fought against them. The gods just held them placidly. 

The princesses took Straw Hat somewhere safe to recover. They'd glanced at Law, leaning bloody and beaten and more than halfway dead, against the wall, and said they'd bring back someone stronger to carry him. He glared at them with what energy he had. The younger one hurried off with Straw Hat on her back, but the older one lingered a few moments before following. 

He was able to move before anyone began searching for him. Law worked his way to his knees and looked towards the ruined castle. The Marines hadn't mobilised to collect the Family yet. He needed to check no one had escaped. And Doflamingo… with any luck his patchy first aid job after Law's Gamma Knife hadn't lasted through Straw Hat's beat down. Law wasn't usually that lucky though.

His legs still wouldn't hold his weight, so instead of climbing down he created a Room. A poor decision. Souls were clawing at the rubble, screaming for help. The sounds tore at him, clawing at his raw mind and setting his nerves on fire.

Law Shambled bodies out of the rubble each time he moved himself towards the castle. Some were alive. Many weren't. Most souls lost their will to fight when they saw what he pulled out. They'd collapse in shock. But at least they were quiet.

The death gods weren't pleased, but he guessed that was more because he brought himself closer to death with each Room rather than his lack of tact with the dead. They were too busy to rant at him for it. And it was worth it to stop the noise. He had begun to hear it even without his Room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly follows from Chapter 6.  
Warnings for anxiety and anxiety attack.

Law could feel his stress response increase and he wanted to laugh. The physical threat was long gone. He’d treated all three of his dying crew. Their souls were back in their bodies and they were sleeping peacefully in front of him. Their heart monitors were beeping at a steady pace. Why was he building up to an anxiety attack now?

Law's chest was tight and combined with a horrid lightness. It felt wrong when he breathed. Like no matter how deep his breaths, he wasn't getting enough air. He knew he was. He _knew_ it. It was just his brain sending noradrenalin through his body in preparation for a threat, adrenalin making the reactions last. He could name each symptom, the purpose, and its effect. The noradrenalin dilated his bronchi and bronchiole and increased his breathing rate, allowing for easier and faster respiratory function. Hyperventilating without the strenuous activity that his body expected caused a drop in his carbon dioxide levels, leading to the feeling of not enough air. His heart rate and blood pressure increased, the reaction allowing more oxygen to the muscles, enabling him to move faster or freeze longer but leaving him weak and lightheaded. His hands, already trembling from using his power and cutting his soul, were cold and tingly. Blood flow being prioritised to central organs and large muscles, again to enable fight, flight, or freeze. His pupils dilated to let in more light and focus solely on the threat by blocking peripheral vision. The result was tunnel vision.

_Stupid, stupid. Stop it. There is no threat. Calm down._

He could name the cause and effect, but it did nothing to stop the process.

_Fuck off. Stupid brain, at least use the information I give you._

He should. Move. Sit, maybe. Legs are shaking. Flu symptoms setting in as well, from using too much of his own soul for surgery. If he moves he’ll probably fall over.

_Don’t give your crew something else to worry about. Useless. Why are you always so_ useless.

They were all fine. He’d cleaned out the wounds, reattached everything, and stitched them back together, body and soul, and they’d heal just fine. There was no reason for this.

_But what if you didn’t. You’ve made mistakes before. Did you make a mistake? What if you did?_

He needed to check. Just a Room and a Scan to make sure. But he can’t in this state. He has before, and the over stimulation knocked him out for hours.

_What good are you then? Can’t even check on them when they need it something could be wrong they could be dying why are you so—_

“Captain?”

Penguin. He. Needed to be fine. Penguin was already worried nearly to literal sickness over Shachi. He didn’t need to deal with his captain being a useless wreck.

Law turned his head towards Penguin’s voice. Mechanically; degree by degree. But his eyes wouldn’t move from where he was staring at his sleeping crew. He wouldn’t be able to see them if he looked at Penguin. His vision was even worse, fading out what was not directly in his line of view. The gauze pad taped over Ikkaku’s stitches below her ribs. He couldn’t see her shoulders or her legs.

Penguin was saying something. It was drowned out by the static ringing in his ears. The worried tone of his friend's voice made it through, but the words were indistinguishable. He couldn’t hear the machinery either. He couldn’t hear the confirmation that their hearts were still beating, that he hadn’t killed them yet.

Law’s heart rate ratcheted up higher again, eyes flicking wildly to find the displays. His small field of vision was filled with a tiny face instead. The decoration of Penguin’s hat. Hands were pressed to either side of his face to force him to look down. He flinched at the touch, and his legs gave out beneath him. A crack, Law’s knees hitting the tiles, and he listed forwards unable to support himself.

“Law!” Penguin exclaimed, catching him by the underarms.

His body desperately wanted to curl up, to protect him from this perceived attack. But he couldn’t move. This wasn’t something he could fight or flee from. His body chose ‘freeze’.

_Stupid, stupid. Get up. It’s just Penguin, he doesn’t need to deal with this. Stop it. Move. Get. Up._

But no matter how he willed himself, Law could not make his muscles do anything but shake.

“Bepo!” Penguin called for the mink. Law despaired. He did not need to bother Bepo with this as well. He just needed to get up. Or maybe just go lie on the floor near the machines. Even where he was would be fine, if only it wouldn’t worry Penguin. But it would. So he needed to get out of their sight before he broke any further.

A death god floated through the walls. Law quickly drew a loud, ragged breath.

_What are you doing why are you here they aren’t dead I didn’t kill them you can’t take them you caN’T HAVE THEM!_

Law tried to force out a Room. There was a small flickering around his fingers. Then nothing as he dropped his head to Penguin’s chest, energy drained so much he couldn’t hold it up. His thoughts were incoherent screaming, tone begging and pleading silently with the being. Tears were running down his face. It looked around and came towards him.

“You are reckless,” it said gently. Law didn’t think he was hearing the words with his ears. “You’ve used too much of your own soul. Combined with your fruit use, it is taking nearly too much of your energy to heal. You are our favourite human, but even we cannot save you from everything you do to yourself.”

Something soft wrapped around him from behind. Penguin wrapped into it from the front, effectively sandwiching him. He felt the soft fur against his neck. His hat was removed and claws ran through his hair. Bepo. He was saying things Law couldn’t make out, ears still ringing with static.

“These friends of yours are out of danger,” the death god spoke again. “It is not encouragement, but you did well. Rest now, and I will do what I can for you.”

Bepo pulled them all backwards and towards a wall. He leaned against it and pulled Law and Penguin closer to him. The softness of his fur was calming, and the pressure of the two of them helped Law to stay grounded and feel safe. He focused on the other two, feeling their chests move with their breathing and listening to the sound of their hearts beat. The panic subsided incrementally, and eventually he could move again.

Law pulled his arms up, wrapped them around Penguin and gripped Bepo’s paws, and returned the hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr (otterinterests.tumblr)


End file.
